When Losing Time (Extended Prologue)
by Ever Since That Day
Summary: Beetlejuice and Lydia... before the memory loss and all it's inherent problems. Rules... you know I hate 'em. My full story has taken longer than it should have. I couldn't seem to figure out how to piece my story bits together. I realized it was because some of the bits didn't belong in the main story. So I'm making a prologue for them. Some scenes are new perspectives.
1. Chapter 1

That whole literal translation thing was like a switch in his head. It was easy to turn on, but so difficult to turn off.

It caused... changes. He could feel them rattling around on the inside.

When the switch was off he could think clearly. It was easier to access his thoughts, memories, and rational processes. In other words: he wasn't so crazy. However, he had a darkness to him that came from living as long as he had with as many problems as he had. People usually didn't understand. His parents were older, but they weren't nearly as disliked. Scuzzo – the only one Beetlejuice thought of as crazier than himself - was maybe a century or two younger, but he was even more hated than Beetlejuice.

But when the switch was on... that was when things got complicated.

Usually only the most harmless things happened. He didn't have the mental capacity to watch his tongue and his puns always turned out badly. Not that they turned out the same way each time anyway. The phrase "cat got your tongue" could cause any number of outcomes: he could become a cat, he could cough up a hairball, he could have an actual cat stuck to his tongue, an actual cat could run off with his no longer attached tongue, or any number of other options. But normally they were small problems; easy to fix.

When they weren't they were _huge_. When one or another of his body parts developed sentience, for example, it was always terrible. Or when someone else took advantage of his puns. There were endless possibilities for bad things to happen.

The worst of it was that he couldn't just turn the switch back off by thinking about it. The literal translations had a tendency to buzz around in his head. On the inside it was more like all the endless possibilities took form in his head and he had to work hard to dodge them to turn the switch off. It was mental gymnastics. Sometimes literally. His mental self had swung from trapeze handles more than once. That took time. Beetlejuice had to have a quiet place to sit and meditate.

So why did he turn it on at all? He didn't when he was alone. It was too hard to clean up your own messes. Especially when that mess might involve not having a body or a brain. Even having someone to fix it didn't make it worth it though. That was only part of the answer.

The real reason was that this cute little girl, with her dark ideas and her easy laugh, seemed to enjoy his puns when they didn't go wrong. Even when they did she always made things right. Afterwards she would tell him how scared she had been, but that she'd still had fun.

That was why he left it on. He left it on longer than he ever had before for a young girl's laugh.

He could still remember that last night they spent alone together. One of his puns had trashed her city. She'd ranted and raved at him until he fixed it up. He'd turned himself into a giant pressure washer. It cleaned up supernatural messes without damaging the physical world like a real pressure washer could.

Beetlejuice was good. And thorough. He didn't just clean up the visible marks like she demanded. He also cleaned up the huge ghostly footprint Negajuice had left over her city. There was no reason to tell her it was there or to tell her what would have happened if he'd left it. It wasn't important as long as it was gone.

She'd given him this really happy smile. He'd made a ridiculous joke. She'd given him a heartfelt thank you he was sure he didn't deserve because everything was all his fault. No use letting her know that though. Instead he just grinned back at her. He'd transported them both back to her room and she'd yawned before sending him back with a quiet "Night Beej."

It turned out all his cleaning wasn't enough. His brain repeated the phrase "too little too late" over and over until it was all he could think for hours on end.

Her parents had woken up after only three hours of sleep. Chuckie found the nice dent in his car that Beetlejuice had missed while focusing on the rest of the city. (Beetlejuice still didn't see why he should have fixed the dent anyway. It was those stupid kids leaving town in such a rush that caused it.) He knew that wasn't all there was to it. There had to be something more than some partying neighbors and a dent in a car. All he could be sure of was that something changed.

They told her that night at dinner that they were leaving town.

He'd been so frantic it had been hard to engage in mental gymnastics. He kept creeping into his mind and tripping over running dogs and snaking vines. Every failure seemed to make the switch further away. He'd never felt his mind so crowded.

Then she was gone. It took two days for his brain to finally process that she was really gone. That she'd forget about him. When the realization hit he had a moment of perfect clarity. The switch flipped off so fast he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to turn it back on. But it didn't matter. He'd only turn that switch on for one girl. And she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Beetlejuice, Ulf when he was still alive, knew that he was beginning to lose himself. He'd never had a great grip on his sanity to begin with and things weren't really changing just because he was dead. They might even be getting worse. His powers made it so easy to just do the things he'd struggled with before. Like killing. And torturing.

His name fit him. He knew that. Even as a child his family had seen something in his smile that told them he was a wolf. It wasn't just his jagged teeth, but something behind them. He could vaguely remember his mother being just as fierce as himself. It was hard to believe considering how soft she was now.

But those thoughts didn't matter. He was thinking about his slipping mental state.

He was grasping these thoughts as tightly as possible because people in the Neitherworld had been whispering. They didn't like his jagged-toothed smile or the way his magic seemed to be stronger than anyone else's. They didn't even know that he could feel it growing every day.

Recently he'd gotten word that there was a petition going around about him. They wanted to bind him. Beetlejuice just considered himself lucky that they didn't know the extent of his powers. The binding would never hold him properly if they didn't know how to set the parameters.

That wasn't important at the moment either. What was really important right now was finding a loophole. Ulf had learned all about contracts within the first year of being dead. He hated how they made him feel hemmed in and trapped. So he started doing some digging and discovered loopholes.

His magically imparted ability to read allowed him to skim through his contracts until he found those blessed little twists in the writing. If he was lucky he could get out of it completely, change it to benefit him more than the other party, or at least get around the worst parts.

Eventually he just stopped signing contracts or filing paperwork. He wasn't a suicide. They couldn't force him… even if they tried.

Now they were going to slap a full binding on him to prevent him from getting out of any more contracts. Not to mention all the other stuff a full binding would prevent him from doing. Like visiting the living world on a whim. Or torturing the living without permission.

Which all brought him back to how to deal with it.

He had this vague idea about leaving his unrestrained magic in the living world. But he couldn't figure out how to leave his power there as something that would last any length of time. He'd tried creating little balls of pure energy, but they all dissipated.

So he sat on an outcropping of rocks in the Neitherworld that overlooked the living world with his _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ open on his lap. He watched it absently for the changes that would appear when the binding went into effect. He also liked to flip through it to look for more loopholes. The thing was synced to his afterlife specifically and everything in it was general information or related to him.

After a moment of staring blankly at a page on exorcism he closed it. He went to set it beside him on the rock, but his fingers didn't seem to want to put it down. So he started tossing it up into the air and catching it.

It was only the third toss when he fumbled the catch. The book plummeted quickly off the edge of the cliff towards the living world.

And the solution hit Beetlejuice as fast as the book was about to hit the ground beneath him. Zapping himself to the bottom of the cliff with a thought Beetlejuice watched the book thump to the ground. The fall had been bad enough that the book should have been shredded, but it was as unharmed as Beetlejuice himself.

Grinning manically Beetlejuice juiced the book into his hand. Even the forest seemed to grow quieter as he chuckled; a low, evil sound.

A day later, maybe three – he hadn't kept track – Beetlejuice looked at the newly minted book in his hands. This book looked exactly the same, but it was fused with so much of his power that he wasn't even sure it could still be updated by The Administration. Not that he'd ever find out for sure. The book was staying on this side of the death line and he wasn't.

Beetlejuice wasn't entirely sure how much he could do with the book, but it was enough to tie him to the living world no matter what the higher-ups did.

He once more gave his low chuckle before dropping the book in the dirt and going back to the Neitherworld.

They could take away his real name. They could try to control his powers. They could even temporarily bind him to the Neitherworld. But as long as that book was in the living world he would always have a way out.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ummm.. it's really belated, but disclaimer: I don't own Beetlejuice or any ideas related to the movie and/or cartoon.  
Also, this has not been proof read even a little bit. It will be proof read soon if you want to re-read it in the future. 

Beetlejuice used the hell out of that book over the years.

He encouraged the book to wander from hand to hand. It travelled all over the world. Though it took longer to reach some countries he was pretty sure he still hit every one eventually.

He had some especially great moments that he liked to sit back and reflect on. The Black Plague was perhaps his favorite. He hadn't actually started the spread of the disease, or the disease itself. However, he did cause a major infestation of fleas. There may or may not have been some Neitherworld fleas mixed in with the rest. They were significantly harder to kill. Just the thought made his lips twist in a demented smirk.

And it was so easy. All he had to do was get the book into the hands of a sensitive. There wasn't even that much work involved because sensitives seemed to be drawn to it. Once they touched it he could leech a touch of their power to anchor him to them. He usually did this through something personal belonging to them.

Initially Beetlejuice gave up those ties as soon as he was released. The sensitives didn't last long past getting him out. He burned bridge after bridge, connection after connection for a hundred years. Then he went through a dry spell.

He could feel the world changing around his book, but he couldn't affect anything; couldn't latch onto anything. It was killing him. Sure he knew a lot about the living world and all the innovations going on, but even as his brain filed those things away for later he could only focus on his frustration.

Finally someone took his book off the shelf it had been sitting on for twenty years. They stored it in a box for a fairly brief trip and then took it out again. After that various people were picking up the book for a few weeks at a time and then a new person would repeat the cycle. Beetlejuice determined that it must have been added to the collection of a public library. He grinned. Now it was only a matter of time.

After playing with the book for a while early on, Beetlejuice had figured out that he could change the text at will. At first this meant a minor glamour that made the book look appealing until he could see more of the person and specifically change it to their interests.

He didn't bother with that anymore. Since then he'd figured out how to enchant the book. Now it sensed the reader's interest using a little of his juice and entertained them with minor nonsense.

Beetlejuice knew this would only work inside a library for so long. If someone noticed that the book changed with every reader it might get sent somewhere he couldn't get access to a sensitive.

There was nothing he could do though. Until someone with power touched the book he was stuck. So, one day, when Beetlejuice felt a jolt of electricity flood his body he jumped to his feet and through power outward around the book before realizing the holder was probably still in the library. He waited until later that evening to send out much more tentative feelers.

A few minutes later he found the perfect thing: a mirror set into a stand.

Grinning widely the ghost carefully infused every fiber of the reflective surface with his power.

When he at last turned his attention away from the project at hand he was surprised to see a man asleep on a nearby bed. Beetlejuice had learned long ago that men tended not to be as open to the occult and were rarely useful for this sort of haunting. But if the world was changing he fully supported it. This would double his targets.

It was too bad this current guy didn't have enough power to keep him going. Beetlejuice could only really pull a few pranks. He moved objects around at random, floated objects in the poor man's peripheral vision, and snuck into his head to make him obsessed with the book.

This last turned out to be a good thing and a bad thing. The guy didn't want to return the book to the library. He clung to it at night before bed and just seemed to get more fixated when he found it next to his mirror in the mornings.

Unfortunately for him this library kept a strict record of their books. And they had a collection agency.

It took several weeks for the man to recover from the collector's visit. Then he snuck back into the library to find the book.

Beetlejuice began to get annoyed. He needed someone with enough power that he could change the words in the book. He had an idea about writing some spell that would convince a reader to summon him. But he still didn't have enough power. His curse made it hard for him to communicate any information on himself.

This guy, with his sick and twisted obsession was making his afterlife impossible.

So one night with the mirror and the book in the same room Beetlejuice changed tactics.

The next time the collector came he was surprised to find his objective cowering in a corner. He tightly clutched the object and only some rough treatment released the book. The man didn't even seem to realize that he'd been hurt. He just continued to rock back and forth, whimpering.

As he turned to leave the room the collector heard a ghostly cackle that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

Beetlejuice kept the link on that mirror. The book was more important, but the mirror would allow him a window into the living world. And it had enough juice that he could summon the book to the mirror. Beetlejuice guessed that the way the mirror held his juice had something to do with it being manmade. No tree or rock had held his power. It didn't matter. Now he had at least two ways into the outside world. And there would be more in the future.

* * *

Beetlejuice continued to make physical connection after physical connection. And he didn't bother disconnecting them anymore.

Now he had a pocket watch in the living world that was linked to a pocket watch in the Neitherworld. The mirror he'd first enchanted was synced to a full length mirror in Beetlejuice's bedroom. There were coins, knives, glasses – anything reflective – that he had connected with a similar object in his house.

Most of the time he ignored them. He had to be touching the corresponding item to feel what was happening around the living world item. It was easier to just focus on his book.

That was always a source of fun. Over the years he tortured both the living and bound ghosts. He frightened them and toyed with their minds. Sometimes it was harmless pranks and other times he got into their heads. He could make them forget things, like their husbands or wives or children. Or he could make them remember things that had never happened. His favorite was making people remember things that would happen.

Beetlejuice was careful to only ever go into someone's head if he thought they deserved it. Which didn't mean much since he often thought they deserved it if he was having a bad day.

Or if they didn't let him out quickly enough. Because he did figure out how to convince people to let him out.

His book could read them. And he borrowed power like the fiend he was to change his book into spells, poems, flighty bits of prose, anything that would convince the reader to repeat his name aloud three times. Hell, he got _good_ at it.

Inevitably someone would send him back, but he could spend years at a time in the living world if he was careful.

He became the most cultured ghost in the Neitherworld without anyone even knowing it. He spent time with the highest classes to the lowest and everything in between. He helped develop new technologies and social fads. When he wasn't helping develop he was learning everything he could. Beetlejuice devoured knowledge.

He wanted to know everything. It made him more powerful.

He thought it was some time in the 1880s or '90s when he got called back last.

After fifteen years of no one touching his book Beetlejuice began to wonder if The Administration had caught on. Since his first 100 year dry spell Beetlejuice's book had never gone this long without even being touched.

Finally he got tired of waiting. He got tired of pulling pranks on Neitherworldians. He got tired of pretending he was a mostly harmless, small-time annoyance.

So he went home and pulled out his intricately carved floor-length mirror.

Interestingly enough, the corresponding mirror appeared to be in a child's bedroom. After a few hours watching the room Beetlejuice was rewarded with a view of a little boy, maybe seven years old.

A week later Beetlejuice summoned the book to the kid's room and left it on his bed. The kid looked through the book of spells interestedly. He only focused on the spells that benefitted him. One such spell broke the arm of a neighbor.

It took more than a year of Beetlejuice granting the kid's every wish for him to realize that the kid had grown too selfish to ever use the spell that would summon Beetlejuice.

So he stopped helping the kid.

It wasn't long before things changed in the kid's life. He came home with a black eye, then bloody lip, then a broken arm. Eventually the family moved away.

The next three inhabitants of the room were all kids and they were all varying degrees of selfish. Beetlejuice allowed some spells to work while ignoring others just to see what the brats would do.

None of them had the reaction he wanted. And he didn't even know what that reaction was!

Finally an adult lived in the room. She found the book, scoffed at it, and threw it away. Beetlejuice spent years driving her insane.

When they took her away the room was empty for a while.

Beetlejuice checked on his other trinkets, but bored of them more quickly. They didn't let him look out into the world as the mirror did.

He came back to the mirror only to find it covered in a sheet.

Furious Beetlejuice almost shattered the glass. It took weeks of pranking the local ghosts to get the fury out of his system. He even turned his own brother into a good person in the process.

Once he was calmer, Beetlejuice went back to the mirror. He wasn't sure how many years had passed since he'd driven that woman insane, but now the mirror was in a different house. The room it was in had a similar feel to all the others, but the view outside the window was vastly different.

One day a little girl moved into the room. She was about the same age as the first boy that had moved into that room. But she was very different.

He watched her for years to see if it was even worth summoning his book. He had grown jaded towards children.

So he watched her catch bugs and then free them. He watched her put up dark curtains and read gothic books. He watched her wardrobe grow slowly darker along with the rest of her room. He watched her befriend a black cat.

Everything he saw made his grin slowly grow.

When she was nine – and he knew this because her parents had woken her up with the number – he left the book on her bed for her when she got home. That night after school she found the book on her bed.

Whether she thought it was a birthday present or a Halloween present he didn't really care. He was just happy she seemed entranced.

She had no idea what that book would come to mean to her.

Little Lydia.


	4. Chapter 4

The kid seemed fascinated with the book without being unhealthily obsessed. She still spent her weekdays following her normal routine.

As far as he could figure that was going to school every day. It was her extracurricular activities that were so much fun. Mondays and Tuesdays she always came home just in time for dinner. He knew because he could watch her dash up the stairs from her open door, her parents yelling up after her.

Wednesdays she would come home on time, but he had no idea what she was doing. He didn't think she was spending it with her parents or watching TV. Wasn't her style.

Thursdays she spent at her desk drawing. Luckily for him, her desk was attached to his mirror. Beetlejuice never missed a Thursday. He would sit and watch her draw for hours. Usually they were designs for clothes, but when she was feeling particularly whimsical she would draw the grossest monsters. He'd only seen worse in the Neitherworld.

Fridays she spent in her room watching old-school horror movies. The kind where you could see the strings the UFOs dangled from. Or the hand inside the monster's mouth. But Beetlejuice agreed with the kid – they were classic and still managed to pack a good scare with careful use of subtlety.

It was Fridays and Thursdays that Beetlejuice was always tempted to mess with the girl. He thought about making her drawings move around on their pages. He thought about changing her favorite scenes in movies. She knew them well enough that she'd notice the changes.

But he never did any of the things he wanted.

This was still all about getting out.

Now that she had the book she changed her weekend plans. Every Saturday, instead of spending the day avoiding her mother, Lydia pretended to leave and snuck back into her room to study the book all day.

After getting caught once she set up a hidey-hole in her closet and tucked herself into the dark for hours.

Only a couple of weeks passed before the book was filled with underlined and highlighted spells. Pages were carefully dog-eared and dog-eared again if the spell was one she really wanted to try.

Less than a month after her birthday she tried the first of her spells. It was mid-November and just starting to get really cold. She found a fern near her house and breathed the spell over it. She also sprinkled some herbs and drew a circle in candlewax. All of that stuff was crap, but Beetlejuice thought it added a nice effect.

It was unusual for someone to try a growth spell before the other spells, but he didn't think it was that abnormal. She was still in the beginnings stages of her testing.

He kept the fern alive through December before getting bored.

She cried when she found it dead.

She didn't give up on the book though. She tried other little spells. Things that helped others more often than not. There was one spell about keeping warm that she cast on the nest of some roosting birds. She used locating spells on nuts for local squirrels.

Beetlejuice didn't really know what to make of this. She filled her room with the kind of creepy, dark stuff that he could really appreciate. But then she was a total softie when she thought no one was looking. He didn't know what to make of the kid.

The spells didn't always work. He told himself it was because it wasn't good to let the kid think she was God. Really it was because he got distracted and forgot to release his juice sometimes.

One of the times he wasn't paying attention she found a cat with a broken leg.

He meandered into her mirror after a week-long scam and found her hunched over the book repeating the spell for healing over and over. She was clutching a little black bundle in her arms. It wasn't moving and Beetlejuice assumed the worst. He couldn't heal death and wasn't going to waste his magic trying.

But she looked so distraught and this seemed like the perfect chance…

As he turned his attention to his book he could feel the wet saltiness of her tears on the page. He could use them to help bind himself to her, but didn't feel comfortable pulling that trick on a crying little kid. Instead he just flipped the page to the one he wanted.

Lydia gasped and rocked back. The little bundle in her arms still didn't move.

After a minute of reading the tears began to dry on her face. She looked away in thought. Then she read it again.

If he'd thought her tears were bad minutes ago he was in for a horrific surprise.

Sobbing so hard she could barely breathe the kid kicked the book into a corner and put the bundle on her bed up near her pillows. She began stroking it to try to calm down. It was the familiar petting gesture that finally told him what she'd been crying over. It was just some stupid cat.

He huffed angrily and turned from the mirror. He hated crying kids and women. So he decided to come back when she'd gotten over it.

In actuality he couldn't make himself stay away as long as he'd meant to. It was less than a week before he was back in her mirror.

He had to wait a few hours for the kid to come home from school, but was shocked to find her whistling when she did. He quickly found out why when a tiny meow came from under her bed.

"Percy! What are you doing under there again? I promise nothing will happen to you inside this house silly!" She giggled as she coaxed the cat out.

The little pest had a cast on one leg, but seemed fine overall. Beetlejuice was surprised. Apparently he should trust the kid's judgement a little more.

Now it was too late for him to help the cat's healing process along. The window to release his juice had closed. He just hoped he could find another way to prove himself to her. She needed to use that spell he'd showed her.

* * *

Beetlejuice was thinking over this conundrum in his favorite chair when he felt the urgent need to shield. This urge was so natural to him that he did it without thinking… and was nastily surprised when the shield didn't snap up around him.

Pulling away from his thoughts quickly Beetlejuice looked for the source of the trouble before it could come down on his head. Nothing seemed to be threatening him.

Finally it occurred to him to look inward to find the problem.

After a few minutes of probing he figured out it was his link to the book. It took another thirty seconds for him to realize the implications of that.

By the time he got to the mirror to check on the kid he had already figured out he wasn't going to see anything. If the kid had used the particular spell it was because she needed it. Because the ingredient for that spell was pure, unadulterated panic.

Beetlejuice spent almost an hour pacing back and forth in front of the mirror.

He was so anxious that he almost missed her entrance.

She was walking almost silently and appeared to be trying to sneak in without anyone noticing. He wasn't sure why she was bothering. Her parents would see the bruises on her wrists as soon as she went down to dinner. Maybe not the huge gash on her leg though, if she was careful.

Suddenly Beetlejuice was furious.

This little breather with her dark heart of gold was being _bullied._ It made him want to strangle something. He abruptly found himself wondering what his shield had saved her from if this was what had happened before it went up.

With the tiniest sigh possible she gently settled herself and her book on the bed. She began slowly unpacking it. Two textbooks… and then his book.

If he'd known she had started taking it to school with her he would have paid more attention to it. That was where all the good stuff happened.

She flipped the book open almost absently. Like it was one of her textbooks and she was just getting ready to complete an assignment. But she just stared at it blankly. Right up until he flipped the book to the healing spell.

Her eyes got wide and she looked towards her window. Closed. She turned back to the book with a glare. "You didn't work last time for poor Percy. Why should I try you now?" With that she turned over what seemed to be a random number of pages.

He turned it back.

This seemed to enrage her. She slammed the book shut and threw it at the wall.

He slowed the impact and opened it right back.

Lydia couldn't seem to help herself. She walked over to check. When she saw it, looking like it was even written in a bigger font, she sighed. "I don't even care about this stuff. I'll heal. Why do you care now when you didn't care about poor little Percy."

Tears started sliding down her face. He wasn't sure she even noticed until with an annoyed grimace she wiped the thing away. "Fine. We'll do it your way. But, and I mean it, that spell better work every time I use it from now on."

The page fluttered gently. She wasn't sure if it was agreement or frustration.

With one last sigh she knelt and recited the spell. She didn't bother with all the extra stuff.

She gasped as she felt the gash on her leg close up. Reaching down to feel for a scab or any sign it had been there at all she noticed that her wrists were completely blemish free. "How -" She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Remember the deal."

From that day on she used the healing spell all the time. An injured bird, squirrel, mouse. Anything and everything.

He still didn't let all the spells work, but she didn't seem to care as long as the one that allowed her to heal worked.

It was perhaps this and two other very interesting facts that finally made Beetlejuice realize that this was the girl he hadn't known he'd been looking for.

The first was a day early in her summer break when she came home with a bird. It obviously had a sprained wing, but she hadn't said the healing spell yet. In fact, the wing was splinted and the bird was set in a comfortable box with a bit of seed. It looked like the bird was ready for a fairly lengthy stay.

Frowning Beetlejuice wiggled his book free from her backpack and opened it to the healing page.

Lydia laughed when she noticed. "Thanks, but no thanks. I've been doing some research and I don't think it's healthy for them to heal so instantaneously. Their bones don't strengthen enough."

Beetlejuice was floored. Who didn't take the easy way out? What was with this kid?

The second event – much more important in Beetlejuice's mind – was actually a lack of an event. She never tried to get revenge. At least not using her book of spells. And there were definitely some spells in his book for getting revenge.

Those pages didn't even have anything underlined.

Every once in a while she would come home with scrapes and bruises and he still had to shield her at least once a month. He would insist that she heal them, but that was the end of it.

Once he tried to convince her to pull a prank. Instead of getting excited about the idea or even offended (soft-hearted people could be so weird,) she had laughed. It was a good laugh. It came from the diaphragm and left her gasping. When she was able to breathe again she was still giggling "She deserves it, but I'm happier just being the better person."

Beetlejuice was floored… again.

This kid was driving him crazy. She wouldn't go for his best ideas. She didn't take advantage of his magic. And she talked to the book like it was a sentient being. She was like a frickin' saint and he didn't even know if he was allowed to mess with her kind.

He grinned his familiar manic, evil grin.

Whether he was allowed to or not wouldn't stop him.

This girl was his ticket. And he was going to enjoy every minute of the ride.

* * *

A/N: Please don't start expecting updates this fast all the time. I've just been feeling inspired this week thanks to WithoutHesitation's stories.  
Normally I move at a much slower pace. However, ALL STORIES WILL BE FINISHED. No matter how long it takes me.


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